


A Little Twisted

by hellkitty



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For tf-prime gift exchange. :D  Mild spoilers for the start of Season Three, dubious consent, femdom, sticky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Twisted

 

There was such a thing, Starscream thought sourly, as a bit too much ambiance. And right now, that’s what Darkmount suffered from: a positive surfeit of ambiance.

And at least 100% surplus Shockwave. Truly, Starscream couldn’t imagine a mech he’d want to see less. Even Optimus Prime would be an improvement, with his nauseating Pollyanna attitude. Or Airachnid, who was just as much of a rival, but open and snide.

And almost—almost—amusing.

Shockwave couldn’t find a sense of humor with a microscope. But he did have this completely revolting and puzzling ability to kiss Megatron’s aft all while acting as though he were doing the war a favor simply by showing up.

The war had gone just fine without him.

Well, not just fine, but Starscream had it under control.

Kind of.

Grrrrah. This was maddening, he thought, storming down the corridor of the remains of the Nemesis, the deck plating ringing out from under his elegant pedes. He needed to get out of here, where he could think clearly, feel some air beneath his wings.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t tested that new T-cog yet.

He turned, spinning neatly on one heel, striding down the tertiary corridor. He knew the Nemesis like the back of his elegant clawed hand: it was his ship, Primus dammit. It had been his ship for all the millennia before Megatron showed up with his gabbling about Dark Energon.

Oh my, yes. Dark Energon. What a real asset that had been. Indeed, mighty Megatron.

He chuckled to himself as he reached the first access hatch. Right. That was an auspicious thought for a flight.

Starscream stepped through the threshold, activating the T-cog. He reveled in the smooth slide of transformation seams, silky and powerful. Ohhhh he’d missed this. And he’d missed the air, sailing under his wings, the sure push of his thrusters, pure power, pure control. Flight. Grounders couldn’t possibly understand.

He was finally beginning to feel a bit like himself—as though the air screaming past him was sloughing off all the stink of Shockwave and his supercilious tone, when his scanner blipped on an Autobot signal.

Oh? Oh, well, this couldn’t be more perfect, really: while Shockwave prances around his lab with his polysyllabic words, Starscream was, just look at this, hunting down the enemy. Who was the better lieutenant now, Megatron?

He swooped up in a high kulbit, keeping the downward dive and transforming at the last moment, slamming into the ground with one foot, one leg bowing into an elegant kneel. Starscream believed that a warrior, after all, needed to make an entrance.

“Arcee,” he said, smirking, as the brownish dust of pulverized dirt settled around him, “what a truly pleasant surprise to see you again.”

“Back off, ‘Con!” Arcee snapped, snatching at her pistol. “I should have taken you out when I had the chance.”

Starscream rose from his dramatic kneel, giving a fastidious gesture of dusting off one arm. “And I could say the same to you, but then we wouldn’t be having this lovely reunion.”

“I could go forever without seeing your face,” Arcee scowled.

Starscream tsked in feigned pity. “Such a shame, Arcee. I hear you’ve had to make do with…organics. Where is young Jack, anyway?” He peered around her, showily.

“Jack’s not here,” she said.

“Oh? Did he finally abandon you? Find a bike with no pink, perhaps?” He had no idea what she had against the color, himself, but all that mattered is that she did. It was a button? Starscream pushed it.

“No, he didn’t abandon me,” Arcee retorted. “And it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, of couuuuurse,” Starscream said. “It’s just such a shame, you know, that you turn to him because you can’t handle a real mech.”

She looked nauseated, before wiping that expression from her face, replacing it with a snide smile. “A real mech. Like you?”

“I am a powerful mech. Second in command of the Decepticons.” He hated the taste of that ‘second’ but it was still better than ‘co-lieutenant with Shockwave’ That was…temporary. The more temporary the better.

“You think you can take me, Starscream?” Arcee threw the gun aside, beckoning him. “You’re welcome to try.”

“Like I need the permission of an Autobot.”

Arcee held her hands wider. “I guess you’re waiting for an invitation? Come on, Starscream. As the humans say, put your money where your mouth is.”

And that, he thought, was why humans were an inferior species. Because he’d studied their ‘money’ and it was crawling with germs. “I have better places to put your mouth,” he said, lunging in. His toes would be a nice start. Someone needed to admire his toes as much as he did.

Arcee caught his long arm, and spun, twisting under him, and suddenly, somehow, it was twisted up behind his back, and he was dancing on his toes, wincing with pain. “You were saying?”

”Foreplay!” he gasped. Merely that. Right?

”We don’t have time for foreplay, Screamer,” Arcee said. Her other hand snaked between their bodies, sliding over the sleek curves of his aft, pausing to pinch at some wires.

Starscream yelped.

”You like that?” A velvet chuckle in her voice, the hand creeping lower, snapping open his valve cover. “How ‘bout a little more?”

He craned his head over his shoulder, dipping his wing panels out of the way, to glimpse her spike. It was silver and blue, sleek and…tiny. “…that’s it?” Femme spikes. Such a disappointment. He’d heard stories, but that? That was not even close to the Legendary Pleasure Rods he’d heard of.

“More than enough for you,” Arcee said, pressing in, the tiny little spike, shaped like a corkscrew, hot and hard against his aft.

”Delusional,” Starscream barked, twitching as her fingers circled his valve. Almost in spite of himself, he felt the hot tingle of lubricant in the valve mesh, his hips tipping back into the touch.

“So you are,” Arcee said, evenly. “But I’m betting I’ll have you begging for more.”

“More so I can maybe feel it,” Starscream retorted. He had another insult lined up, but that squelched as she pressed forward, and he felt that spiraled spike nose into his valve. Oh. My. He could feel the ridges of the spiral spike worm up into his valve, ribbed and erotic, his calipers fluttering, unable to settle on one single girth.

“Hey,” Arcee said, her voice from just behind his shoulder, husky, her hands clinging at his hips, pulling him back against him. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

“I’m just…,” he hesitated, trying to find a coherent sentence through the little ripples of pleasure, warm and tingly, in his belly, “Giving you a fair chance to show what you’ve got. I know how you Autobots feel about fairness.” He tried for a sneer, and probably missed.

And honestly didn’t care. Because that spiral spike sliding gently in his valve was beyond distracting.

”Fair. And to think,” Arcee said, tipping her hips to thrust her spike home in his valve, sheathing herself all the way, the little spiral tip scraping the ceiling node. “I haven’t even showed you the vibration function, yet.”


End file.
